


hard to look right at you, baby

by cherryvanilla



Series: wasn't looking for this [3]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Established Relationship, Feelings, Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mixtape, Music, Pop Culture, Wade Wilson Breaking the Fourth Wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: Cut to two years later and his man is still ringless (well — they do have a very lovely cockring that they enthusiastically put to use the other day) and Wade is no closer to shopping for wedding dresses or asking Big Al to be his maid of honor.Or, five times Wade is interrupted while trying to propose plus one time he puts a ring on it*(*with apologies to Beyoncé.)
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: wasn't looking for this [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/469990
Comments: 36
Kudos: 488





	hard to look right at you, baby

**Author's Note:**

> Behold, the final part to this trilogy, four years in the making, lol. I had a vague idea for this that literally started with the 5 plus 1 concept + a Tom Holland and Amy Grant reference and then absolutely nothing else for the longest time. Finally got around to writing it for real. Thank you so much to everyone that has kudos’d and commented on this series over the years. I’m continually blown away by the love these fanfics continue to receive. You’re all the best and I hope this final part does not disappoint. It was a joy to write these two again. 
> 
> Title once again by Carly Rae Jepsen. Huge thanks to Clare for returning as beta on this final part <3333 
> 
> Maybe one day I’ll post a Handy Dandy Pop Culture Reference guide to all three fics, as there’s got to be at least 100 total.

1.

Picture it: New York, 2020. They’re completely disregarding rule one of A-team Fight Club by making out in the sitting room of Avengers Tower, and Wade has something hard in his pants. No, not that. Well, okay, not _just_ that. 

He’s become every cliche, walking around with a little velvet box in his pocket, waiting for just the right moment. It’s not here, it would never be here. In fact, Wade has no idea why they’re even bothering to get busy here. One would think he learned his lesson after all the interruptions in the last story from this series. 

Speaking of which…

Wade pulls away from sucking a line of kisses down Peter’s neck. “I just realized this author hasn’t written us in so long that you’re now played by the baby-faced Tom Holland. But don’t you worry, Andrew, you’ll always be the number one Spidey in my heart. I’ll cherish our Golden Globes kiss for all my days.”

“Is this some multiverse thing I’m not meant to understand?” gasps Peter, angling his neck toward Wade’s mouth. Gosh, he’s sweet. 

“Nah, more like a cinematic verse thing. And boy, did my own sequel really joss this canon to hell. Well, somewhat.”

“Uh-huh.” Peter pulls back. “Shut up and kiss me, Red.”

“Now that sounds oddly fam—mmmph.”

Peter kisses him instead, walking them backward through the room. 

Wade wrenches his mouth away, breathing hard. “As much as I’m — mmm — enjoying this, I gotta — the boxes are uh, kinda freaking out —”

“Tell them to cool it,” Peter says breathlessly, tripping Wade backwards so he falls onto the sofa.

“See I would, sugar lips, but they’re telling me someone — ah fuck, right there — is gonna—”

“Oh jesus, seriously? In my sitting room?”

“—walk in on us,” Wade finishes as Peter sits up straight like he’s just been called to attention. Wade’s waiting for him to salute. Well, something already is saluting (hint: it’s in his pants) but that’s neither here nor there. 

It’s almost funny how Peter’s spidey-sense rarely tingles when they’re getting busy and instead it’s Wade who becomes the psychic one. He just must be that good. 

“Uh, hey, um. Tony. Uh.” Peter drags his hand through his already ridiculous hair, messing it up further. 

“Smooth,” Wade says, still lying beneath Peter and folding his arms behind his head. “Very smooth.”

“Don’t I let you have a bedroom in this place for whenever you need to crash here? Haven’t I said to refrain from any of _this_ , outside of said bedroom?” 

“Rule one of A-team Fight Club,” Peter mumbles, abashed. 

“I told you we should’ve joined the X-Men. I bet the Professor is extremely sex positive, despite that place being filled with virgins.”

“I am very sex positive. I’m _positive_ I don’t want to see you and Peter having sex on my $5000 sofa.”

“That’s homophobic and I should sue.”

“I said the same thing to Nat and Bruce last week,” Tony replies with an arched eyebrow. 

Wade shudders. “Well, that’s just common sense. I mean, that pairing made no sense in any universe (seriously, Joss Whedon?).” 

“Going,” Peter says in a rush, “we’re going.” He pulls Wade along and up to his bedroom.

Wade is so unimpressed by the fact that he’s once again been cockblocked that he completely forgets about the item in his pocket and has to make sure it doesn’t fall out when Peter enthusiastically removes his pants ten minutes later. 

Yeah, bad fucking idea even bringing a ring into this damn place, cock or otherwise.  
______________________

So here’s the thing: Wade Wilson is a romantic at heart. Boom box serenades, airport love confessions, The Graduate style glass pounding at wedding chapels —

(which actually isn’t romantic at all and really a commentary on obsession, hasty decisions, and the true fallacy of love) 

— okay, nevermind that one. 

Point is: Wade a Wilson is a romantic and he kind of wants to propose to his boyfriend. Except he’s got no idea how to and anytime he thinks he might, the goddamn Avengers keep getting in the way. 

Like seriously, he would not be having these issues with the X-Men. He’d probably be in the loving arms of Wolverine (or at least Colossus, since who can afford Hugh Jackman anyway). 

But then he might not have Spidey and gdi, he loves the guy in any incarnation, so he supposes he can deal with the Avengers. He’s survived their cockblocking, after all. 

Now if they’d stop with the ring blocking. 

___________________________________________________________

2\. 

They’re out to dinner, and not just a food truck or Taco Bell either. Wade actually put on a suit that isn’t Deadpool’s (even though he’s also wearing it with a hoodie pulled up around his face) and asked Peter to meet him at Rosa Mexicano and “dress snappy.”

(“Like a top hat and coat tails?” 

“Yeah, Fred Astaire, I’ll be your Ginger.”)

Peter doesn’t wear the top hat; Wade is almost disappointed. Instead he wears a sports jacket and black slacks. 

“Did someone die?” is Peter’s first remark as he meets Wade outside and takes in his suit and tie. 

“Not a living soul, sweet thing.”

“What’s wrong then? And why didn’t we just leave from home together?” 

“I had some things to do,” Wade waves his hand nonchalantly, as if the word ‘home’ on Peter’s lips doesn’t still send lightning bolts through his body. 

“Okay,” Peter replies, drawing the word out. “Last question: did I miss an anniversary or something? Because I’d feel really friggin’ bad if that were the case.” 

Once they got together in the “in love/living together/couple-with-a-label” sense, Wade went all out on the anniversaries. Romantic at heart, after all. They celebrated their first rooftop rendezvous, first kiss, the day they started dating for real, the day they moved in. 

(By celebrated Wade means he made Peter a mix CD, donned some red lace lingerie, and they fucked all over the apartment while R&B sex songs played and Peter rolled Wade’s thigh-highs down his legs with his teeth.)

They’ve been living together for four years now. Peter graduated college two prior and Wade sat front and center with Aunt May — sans costume — clapping so hard his hands hurt. 

(He resisted instigating the slow clap, but just barely.)

Then he kissed Peter Benjamin Parker on a sunny day in May, with tons of people around and his hoodie masking most of his face. 

“Since when do we go out on our anniversary, baby boy? You know we always stay in and mess around the gender roles, in the great tradition of James.” 

Peter laughs loudly, eyes crinkling; Wade is so proud he actually gets that 90s britpop reference now.

“Fair enough.” He pulls Wade in for a kiss and takes his hand as they walk inside, Wade’s heart beginning to pound. 

Truth be told, he’s wanted to pop the question since about a year into this thing. Wade isn’t getting any younger, but Peter still has his whole life ahead of him. So he waited, ignored the boxes telling him their conflicting ideologies, and decided to hold out until Peter graduated.

Except then Peter was trying to figure out how to be both a photo-journalist (who longed for more exciting gigs than cat shows) and a full-time, permanent Avengers team member. It’s never seemed like a good time to add marriage to the equation. 

Cut to two years later and his man is still ringless (well — they do have a very lovely cockring that they enthusiastically put to use the other day) and Wade is no closer to shopping for wedding dresses or asking Big Al to be his maid of honor. 

But tonight: tonight it will happen. Tonight, while the housemade guacamole is prepared for them at the table, the ring that Wade passed off to the hostess prior to Peter’s arrival will be oh so casually slipped into it. Wade has plans set in motion and he refuses to have them foiled. 

Ten minutes later, Ricardo slips the ring in the guac while Wade distracts Peter with a foot in his crouch, and then — 

“I, shit, I gotta go.”

Wade knows that tone. It’s the “Spidey-Senses Be Tingling” tone. Wade has never hated it more. 

Sure enough, both of their Stark Tech transmitters start beeping. 

“Let the A-team handle it.”

“I’m _on_ the A-team,” Peter whispers. “So are you!” Peter looks at the message. “Wade, it’s— I have to— I’m sorry!“ and then he’s storming out of the restaurant just as the guacamole is being set down in front of them. 

“Seriously!?” He angrily digs a chip into the guac and proceeds to choke. Ricardo attempts the heimlich, people start shouting, and Wade swallows an 8mm band. Curse his non-existent gag reflex. 

Peter at least felt enough chagrin to apologize with even more sex than they usually have, even if he’s incredibly confused why Wade won’t let him near his ass. 

(It takes a few days before he sees the ring again.) 

_______________________________________________________________

3\. 

Alright, so food was a bad call. The boxes have been letting him have it nonstop, Wade gets it. But really, the problem always comes back to those cock/ring blocking Avengers, so maybe what they need is to get out of the damn city.

“Poconos, baby boy. Have you ever heard a more glorious word? Po-co-nos. Three syllables of pure bliss.” 

“Um, I suppose?” 

“Don’t tell me you like the Catskills better?” Wade is outraged. Dirty Dancing withstanding, there’s only one truly superior east coast getaway.

“I’ve, uh, never thought much about either?” Peter’s bent over some photos in his dark room. He’s wearing his glasses just because he knows it drives Wade crazy, not because he actually needs them. It should be criminal. 

“This city is quite the drag lately, sweet cheeks, and not the fun kind. Runaway with me my love. Mmm, whatcha say?”

“I say I’m really busy right now, babe. Can we talk about it over dinner?”

Wade tries not to visibly mope — he _is_ a grown man after all (the unicorn plushies and Hello Kitty throws notwithstanding) — but Peter’s spidey-sense must tingle anyway. 

He looks up at Wade, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry, um. What exactly were you thinking?”

Wade steps into his space, perking up. He wraps his arms around Peter’s neck, rubbing their noses together. “You, me, ski slopes, heart shaped jacuzzis, king size beds with mirrors on the ceiling.”

After all the (incredibly) dirty things they’ve done together, the fact that Wade whispering these words into Peter’s skin can cause him to shiver and blush is reason #598 that Wade wants to marry this guy. 

“Oh. That sounds — that sounds really nice.”

Wade bites down on his earlobe. “Maybe spread you out on one of those bear skin rugs, lick you open.”

“Wade,” Peter gasps, head tipping backward as Wade presses open-mouthed kisses down his neck. 

“Dark room sex? Y/Y?”

Peter’s laughter trails off on a moan as Wade shifts to fit their hips together. 

“Yes, yes. Just — away from the chemicals, okay?”

“You think I _need_ more scars?” 

“Shut up,” Peter laughs into his mouth and grabs Wade’s dick. 

Oh yeah. This is his best idea yet.  
___________________________

Truth be told, Wade would love to get Peter somewhere warm and tropical, where he could walk around a beach with his six pack on full display and work on his tan. But the only person who gets to see Wade barely dressed is Peter and Wade really has no interest in sweating his ass off all vacation. 

So, the Poconos it is. Wade’s got the ring, freshly cleaned from the jewelers thank you very much. He watches Peter pack layer after layer, silently hoping to keep him off the slopes and in their room for the majority of the trip. 

“Was this a lot of money? You know how I feel when you pay for everything.” Peter asks on the drive up. 

“Hush and let me spoil you. I enjoy being a sugar daddy. “

Peter rolls his eyes. Wade watches his hands grip the wheel, thinks about the naked space on his left ring finger. 

“Are you sure I didn’t miss one of your many anniversaries for us? You’ve been acting kind of weird lately.” A beat. “Even for you.”

“Never quit with that wit, baby boy.”

“Too legit to quit,” Peter smirks.

“I love you,” Wade replies, very seriously. MC Hammer references = ways to his heart. “And can’t we go away for a long weekend without there being an occasion? Is spontaneity dead?”

Peter eyes him skeptically but lets it go. They pull off the highway for road head twice on the two hour and fifteen minute drive. 

“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this,” Peter gasps, his hands buried in Wade’s short strands, tugging whatever he can. 

“Ifff kephhh behhmmhh fffit efffaaa,” Wade says around his dick, sucking him down even deeper. 

“Oh god, don’t stop… please don’t stop.”

If the ring weren’t packed in his luggage, Wade would pull off right now and ask him, romance be damned. Then he’d lock Peter in their suite for the next four days. 

Peter’s hips thrust up, and his nails scratch along Wade’s scalp. He gasps out Wade’s name and then he’s coming, Wade swallowing every drop. 

Thirty minutes later Peter’s pulling off the road again, and Wade takes his road head cherry for real, Peter’s mouth obscene as he licks up and down Wade’s dick like he was born to do only that. 

“You are full of surprises, Webs.” Wade is still breathless, his body trembling as he comes down. 

“What can I say, you bring out the worst in me.” He’s smirking as he says it, licking a stray bit of come from the corner of his mouth. 

Wade really, really wants to marry him.  
_________________________

Regardless of the question still not being popped, they don’t leave their suite for 48 hours. 

(Wade should’ve just pulled the trigger and proposed when he was bouncing on Peter’s dick in the heart-shaped tub, but he ended up pulling a different, more insistent trigger instead.)

“We have to leave this room,” Peter gasps, flopping down on top of Wade. The sheets are a mess around them and Wade’s dick is still half inside him. 

“Let’s head up a mountain,” Wade replies, because hell, that’s romantic. 

So they do, taking the ski lift to the highest one. Wade has no idea what he’s doing but whatever, any bones he breaks will fix themselves, and Peter has webs so they’re covered. The ring is deep in the pocket of his ski pants and he’s getting really tired carrying this motherfucker around. 

Of course, neither of them plan on the ski lift getting stuck. And then there's mechanical structure failure, and then Peter is stripping because of course he’s got the suit on underneath his million layers. 

Everything happens in flash after that: Peter pulling his mask on, swinging around to help keep the entire lift from falling; people screaming. Wade banging his head on the metal pole so hard he gives himself a concussion because Fuck. His. Life.

Suffice to say they never make it to the top of the mountain. 

Everyone now knows Spider-Man is in the vicinity and reporters have shown up, interviewing guests. Luckily no one saw Peter perform his switch-a-roo since they were in the last carriage, but they hide out on the bunny slope anyway. 

(Wade will _not_ propose on the bunny slope.)

“Maybe we shouldn’t have left the room,” Peter says after he sticks the landing at the bottom of the hill.

“No shit, Benedict.”

In the dining room that night, a dude proposes by having a diamond ring placed on top of his girlfriend’s fruit tart. Everyone cheers.

Peter claps, smiling widely. “Aww, that’s kind of romantic, right?”

“Uh-huh.” When the waiter comes back Wade asks for a full bottle of Jameson. 

Fuck the Pocanos, they should’ve gone to the Catskills. 

___________________________________________________________________

4\. 

Attempt number four is not even worth talking about. It involved a skywriting plane with a "Marry Me, Webs?" message, which was then drowned out by the dust and debris from yet another attack on NYC by [insert the Rogues Gallery Villain of Your Choice] and honestly didn't this 5 + 1 trope have it's heyday in like 2008, who even is this author (who clearly didn’t misnumber and forget a time #4, obviously) anyway?

__________________________________________________________________

5\. 

Wade thought the problem was the Avengers and NYC, but it might be time to face up to facts: the problem is Spider-Man. Wade adores his boy’s alter ego, obviously, but there’s a time and a place for everything and maybe Spidey needs to chill out for a bit. 

Wade resorts to hiding Peter’s transmitter. Which doesn’t stop the spidey-senses, but still, it’s a start. 

“How could it disappear?” Peter exclaims, throwing couch pillows everywhere. 

“There’s no need for melodrama.”

“Wade, seriously, was this you?”

Wade lets out a scandalized gasp. “I am shocked, SHOCKED, that you would even dare to insinuate—”

“Now who’s being melodramatic,” Peter mutters, his body half under the couch. “This is ridiculous.” Peter springs upward. “I’ll just get Tony to make me another one.” 

Wade blocks his path to the door. “Or you could not, and stay inside and we can watch shitty movies with extra buttery popcorn. What’s so great out there anyway? Fires and robberies and monsters from outer space. Honestly, it’s all so boring, Spidey.” 

Peter huffs out a breath and crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, seriously, _what_ is going on with you, lately? Whisking me away to the Poconos, dressing up for dinner, and now not wanting me to step foot out of the house? I’d ask if you were dying but that’s a bit off-color even for me.” 

“The sentiment is appreciated, though.” 

Peter’s expression softens. “Wade, are you — is this some kind of freak out about not wanting me to get hurt, again? Because I thought we’d gotten past that.” 

It isn’t, obviously, as dear readers of this story know. But it’d still be a good out. Wade ponders concurring for half a second before deciding even he isn’t down for that particular brand of emotional manipulation. They’ve both lost too many people, been hurt too badly. Sure, Wade still has his insecurities, still freaks out inside anytime some baddie knocks his man around. But he knows he can’t keep Peter in a bubble. 

“It’s not,” Wade replies, letting his voice go uncharacteristically soft. “I’m just being selfish, I guess. Sharing you with all of NYC ain’t easy, baby.” 

“Babe.” Now Peter’s giving him those stupid Bambi eyes and tugging Wade in closer and — fuck it, maybe he should just do it now. 

“Hang on,” Wade breathes when they’re mouths are an inch apart. He sprints to the bedroom and pulls the ring out of a half empty condom box in the bottom drawer of their nightstand. Peter would never think to look in it; they haven’t used condoms in forever. 

He takes a breath, stands up straight, and heads back to the living room.

Which is of course when Peter’s transmitter that Wade hid in the oven starts going off, along with his own from somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom. 

“Seriously, universe??” He throws the ring box down the hall where it bounces around and lands on the floor near the bedroom window. 

“I’m sorry!” Peter calls, eyes sad. “Come on, let’s suit up.” He’s already moving to the bedroom to grab his suit. He doesn’t even notice the box on the floor as he shoots a web and flings them both out the window. 

Wade is so, so, so over this shit. 

Maybe that bubble isn’t such a bad idea. 

_________________________________________

+1 

Despite the fact that the universe at large (and probably the multiverse as well) clearly doesn’t want him to propose, Wade supposes he might as well get Aunt May’s blessing. 

He swings by for afternoon tea as he does every so often. He’s pretty sure her tears are ones of joy and not abject horror. That’s confirmed when she takes his hand and says, “I’d be honored to have you as a son-in-law.” 

Wade relays his trials and tribulations over the past month, leaving out the dirty bits of course. 

“Aww, sweetie, you’re really over-thinking this. Peter doesn’t need grand gestures. He just needs you.” 

Peter finally told Aunt May he’s Spider-Man a few years back. They’d decided to go for the double reveal. Considering the fact that she fainted when Wade pulled out the Deadpool mask, it was probably a bad idea. 

But after lots of yelling (Aunt May) and even more tears (Peter and Aunt May), it all turned out pretty okay. 

“Yeah, well, I pretty much gave up on the grand gesture part by time #5, but this author clearly hates me as even that didn’t fly.” 

“What?”

Wade sighs. “Nothing. I probably just need to blurt it out, huh? Or send a text? Write a letter? Carrier pigeon?” 

May laughs. “When it’s the right time, you’ll know.”

Of course, that’s when the boxes start up. 

**[maybe it isn’t the right time]**

{ _maybe if it was, he would’ve asked **you** first. Ever think about that, big boy?_} 

“Shut up,” Wade says aloud. They’ve been a lot nicer lately, so this is just plain rude. 

Aunt May startles. “I’m sorry?” 

“Not you.” He waves his hand at his head. “Uh. You think he’s ready for marriage? He’s still kind of young.” 

May scoffs. “Peter’s an old soul and twenty-five isn’t that young. He’s sure about you.”

 _{then why hasn’t **he** proposed}_, Yellow points out. 

Wade sighs. 

May covers his hand. “He just needs a little push. He’s afraid he won’t be able to keep you. That he doesn’t deserve to.” 

So clearly they’ve had some talks since the whole Spidey thing was revealed. 

“Yeah,” Wade replies. “I know what that’s like.” 

“Don’t give up,” she says, patting his hand. 

That’s one thing Wade has no intention of doing. He tells the boxes as much on his way back home, and they finally shut up.  
__________________

Devoted readers of this series will recall that Wade has made Peter many a mix before, and therefore it is not a unique or special event anymore. 

But Wade’s really got nothing left to go on, so he climbs up on the roof with his Lisa Frank notebook and a taco and begins brainstorming an 80s and 90s mix filled with female pop darlings. 

He goes to Weasel’s to use his computer to download the mp3’s and burn the CD. 

“The last time you did this you were still in the wooing stages, so what’s the deal? You fuck up?”

“Fuck you.”

“Another anniversary?”

“No.”

“What, then? You proposing or something.”

“...”

“You are!”

“Maybe a little.”

Weasel laughs. “Oh you poor, whipped bastard.”

Wade flips him off and clicks the burn to disc button. He drops his head on his hands. “This has to work or I’m gonna start believing it’s a fuckin’ sign.”

Weasel claps him on the shoulder. “Just say it during sex, then you’re already mid-celebratory fucking.”

“If he says yes,” Wade mumbles. 

“Oh knock that shit off. The kid is nuts about you, god only knows why.”

“Love you, too.”

Wade takes his CD and his shitty collage cover art made from 90s magazines that Weasel for some reason had, and then heads over to Al’s. He eats ice cream out of the carton and puts his head on her shoulder while she tells him to man the fuck up and “put a ring on that boy.”

Wade has the best friends.  
___________________

He thinks about doing it during dinner (it’s Taco Tuesday) but then figures they’ll just get interrupted again —

(they do) 

—- and scraps that idea. 

They’re covered in dirt and soot when they swing in through the window, close to midnight. They shower together, jerking each other off slowly before falling into bed. Peter’s out almost immediately, his face smashed against the pillows, while Wade stares at the ceiling for the next hour. Now he’s got a CD sitting in the bottom drawer of the night table along with the damn ring. 

“Fuck this,” Wade mutter and decides it’s time for his Lloyd Dobler moment. 

As quietly as he can he sneaks into the living room and finds his portable CD player. It isn’t boombox levels of glory and he’s got to plug the damn thing in because he has no batteries, but he still manages to load the CD and hold it up in front of him (if not fully over his head). 

Peter jerks awake, eyes wide and hair sticking up all over the place, as Baby Baby begins to play. 

“Wade? What? What time is it? What are you doing?”

“I know it isn’t a Peter Gabriel window serenade, but I did actually show you this movie so I refuse to answer that.”

Peter turns the bedside lamp on and then squints adorably, rubbing at his eyes and tilting his head. 

“What song is this?”

“I sometimes forget that you’re a baby, baby. Which just so happens to be the name of this track by 90s darling Amy Grant. A national treasure, sweetums. Not my nation, obvs. The Canadian blood runs deep. Anyways, Ms. Grant was essential in kicking off this moment.” 

Wade sets the CD player down on the nightstand and riffles through the bottom drawer. 

(Maybe he could’ve planned this part better.)

“There’s a moment?” 

“Of course there’s a moment! And every moment requires mood music and what was I gonna do, be cliche and go with Céline Dion? (She comes up later in the mix, don’t you worry.)”

Wade pulls the ring box out and straightens up, still hiding it in his palm. “What I’m trying to say is: my every heartbeat belongs to you, baby boy.” 

“Is that a lyric?” 

“Yes!” Wade sighs in exasperation. “That song is coming up next, it’s supposed to be playing right after you say yes.” 

Peter tilts his head to the other side, an amused smile playing on his lips. “I’m sorry, Wade, but has there been a question?” 

“Oh my god. I’m trying to say that my red blood runs true blue. I’m staking my claim. Peter Benjamin Parker, will you fucking marry me?” 

And then Wade’s dropping to one knee and lifting open the ring box. 

Peter looks — shocked. Huh. Maybe he didn’t actually see this coming?

“I actually didn’t see this coming,” Peter blurts out. 

Wade stares at him. “I’ve gotten ring blocked five fucking times over the course of this fanfic, how did you not see this coming?” 

Peter isn’t listening to him. He’s staring at the ring. It’s black titanium with red carbon accents. It wasn’t very expensive but it screamed _them_ and he figured they’d go all out on the wedding bands. Now, unable to read Peter’s face, he isn’t sure he made the right call.

“You — oh my god, Wade.” 

Then Peter’s looking up and those big, brown eyes are shining and shit, Wade really wasn’t going to cry. 

“This —” He waves a hand in the air. “You’ve, have you been trying to propose this entire time?”

“Ding ding ding, circle gets a square!”

Peter rolls his eyes but he’s also smiling so wide his forehead is creasing and his eyes are even more glassy. 

“You’ve got about 35 seconds to say yes before the next song comes on, FYI.” The words come out more confident than Wade feels. 

Peter launches himself at Wade, arms wrapping around his waist. “Yes, yes, are you kidding me? Of course I will.”

Wade closes his eyes, holds on tight, burying his face in Peter’s neck. The next Amy Grant track starts up; normally Wade is against putting the same artist back to back on a mix, but there are exceptions to every rule. 

They eventually pull back so Wade can slip the ring on his finger. 

“I love it,” Peter whispers, running his finger along the red specks. 

“I love _you_ ,” Wade replies seriously.

Peter looks up at him through his lashes, smiling helplessly. “I love you, too.” 

Then they’re kissing, frantic and hot. Wade lifts up off his knees and onto the bed, covering Peter’s body with his own, getting a leg between his thighs. 

Peter groans into Wade’s mouth and breaks away, laughing. 

“Really?” 

It takes him a second to realize Peter is referring to Forever Your Girl being the next song. 

Wade shrugs. “What? I am.”

Peter’s next laugh is swallowed by Wade’s mouth. 

They do it with Wade’s proposal mix as their soundtrack. Their fingers twine together as Wade fucks into Peter slowly, the cool, heavy weight of his ring pressed along Wade’s knuckle. 

Peter gasps against his lips, arches up for more, wanting it deeper, harder. Begging Wade with his mouth and his body. 

Wade gives him everything and more. 

By the time Ms. Dion makes her appearance, they’re panting and sweaty and still haven’t stopped kissing. 

“I think that Huey Lewis song with this same title is superior, but this isn’t bad,” Peter sighs as they finally break apart. 

“I’ve educated you well.” Wade flops down on his chest, rubs his fingers through the light hair there. 

“How long do you think we can stay in this bed uninterrupted?”

Wade laughs and pinches his nipple. “Considering our track record with interruptions I’d say till dawn if we’re lucky.”

“‘Mmm,” Peter rolls on top of him. “Better get ready for round two then. I’m going to demand all the engagement sex.”

“As you wish,” Wade replies, as Hero starts up. 

In the end they make it until noon the next day with zero interruptions. It must be some kind of record. Wade’s too happy to even mind getting interrupted mid blowjob. 

They’ll eventually have to break the news to the A-team and Aunt May, but for now he’ll let Peter swing them out the window as he daydreams about planning their wedding and whether or not he can pull off white frilly lace when it isn't lingerie. 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to Wade's proposal mix here
> 
> The Infamous Ring: 
> 
> [](https://ibb.co/g674shj)  
> (...that had to hurt.)


End file.
